A Game Of Chess With A Vampire
Chapter 380: The Selection?

Chapter 380: The Selection?

Before the royal cemetery ground, everyone stood, including barely familiar distant members of the royal family.

Ryan was the first to take a step towards the casket where Natasha’s well-dressed dead body was laid inside. He stared at it and lowered his eyes, unable to stop the tears streaming down his eyes.

He didn’t say a word but simply threw a white lily flower into the coffin. A deep breath fled his nose and he turned around walking back. Old Master Lenort was next, followed by every other close member of the family.

Draven and Avelina stepped forward. They stared at the corpse and threw in a bouquet for her, then turned around and returned to their spot.

Ryan turned his head and glanced at the both of them from where he was standing. His eyes held hatred, ill intent, and bloodlust. It looked as though he could attack right from there if he was allowed to.

Draven met his gaze and slowly smiled at him, infuriating him even more. The last thing he would ever feel was sad.

No one was this supportive nor comforting when they killed his wife and son with no empathy. Not even for the little seven-year-old boy who’d done nothing wrong. They killed an innocent mother and child and even on the day of their funeral, barely any of them attended.

Draven cackled inwardly, his expression switching to one filled with pleasure. He balled his hands into fists and tightened his grip on Avelina’s hand. This was but only just the beginning!

He had but only one plan left and with that one plan, his revenge would be complete! It would be perfect—it has to be.

"Let’s go," he said to Avelina.

Avelina lifted her head and looked up at him. "Now?"

"Mhm." Draven nodded. "We don’t have any business left here."

Avelina spared a glance at the coffin that was being rolled six feet underground and left the royal cemetery ground with Draven. Old master Lenort who stood beside Ryan turned his head to glance at their disappearing figure. He narrowed his eyes into a thin line, seeming completely unamused.

——

The funeral was finally over and currently, Old Master Lenort was seated in his office with his balled fist supporting his head. He was in deep thought.

"My lord, Sir Mikhail has arrived," Boris announced all of a sudden from outside the office.

Old Master Lenort lifted his head. "Let him in," he permitted.

The door creaked open and Mr Mikhail walked in. He was clad in a simple tuxedo with his hands resting behind his back.

The door closed close behind him.

"Please, have a seat." Old Master Lenort gestured to the chair opposite him.

Mikhail approached and bowed before taking a seat.

"You called, my lord."

Old Master Lenort nodded his head. "Indeed. Something has been troubling me so far."

"Hm? And what could that be?" Mikhail asked.

Old Master Lenort responded, "It is concerning what we last spoke about."

"The...selection?" Mikhail inquired.

"Yes," Old Master Lenort confirmed. "I’ve been thinking about what you said and am quite worried. Things have honestly favored this boy sometimes and am afraid it might just be the same this time around."

"I don’t know, but every time I look at him, I get quite nervous and I know it’s not because I’m afraid of him, but because I can feel something going against my favor about to happen."

Mikhail thought seriously for a few moments before looking at old master lenort. "What do you want to do? Will you push the selection forward before he can possibly have a child or postpone it and gamble?"

Old Master Lenort shook his head. "No, I can’t gamble. Not when it comes to him."

"Then what will you do?" Mikhail probed.

Old Master Lenort lifted his head and looked at him. He responded, saying. "I will simply have to push forward with the selection. Instead of postponing it until three months, I will make it happen in a month. It will be beneficial to get it over and done with after all."

Mikhail nodded, concurring with him.

"You do have a point. Do we let the princes know?" he asked.

"Yes. I will let them know, myself." Old Master Lenort arranged the documents on his table and dropped them in his drawer.

Mikhail, who seemed to have something on his mind, couldn’t help but ask, "What if the crown chooses him?"

Old Master Lenort halted what he was doing and looked at him. He thought for a few moments and responded cold-heartedly, "I will simply kill him, this time, once and for all."

Mikhail shook at the hostility oozing from him and took deep breaths to calm his nerves.

"I-I think that will be a good idea. They should know and prepare themselves. It’s only four weeks away."

"Exactly." Old Master Lenort half smiled to himself and shut the drawer close.

—

[The next day during breakfast]

Old Master Lenort munched on his food. From time to time, he would spare a glance at each and every one of them.

Now was his chance to inform them before they began to leave.

He cleared his throat and dropped his utensils. "There is something that I would like to inform you all of."

Everyone halted eating and looked at him. Ryan asked, curious, "What...might it be, father?"

Old Master Lenort spared him a glance. He said, "It is concerning the selection."

"The selection?" Lestat was a bit taken aback. Was something wrong? It couldn’t possibly be getting canceled right? But that was impossible. If they canceled the selection, finding the next heir worthy of the throne would be impossible.

Old Master Lenort nodded and used a napkin to wipe his lips. He adjusted his seating and took a sip of his tea.

"You should not have those petty looks on your faces boys, nothing is wrong. I have merely only changed the date for the selection, that is all."